


second-cousin to the devil

by nap_princess



Series: I love crazy [5]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Ah apples the forbidden fruit, Also low key betrayal, Angst, Bad Ending, But it's not who you think it's with, F/M, I don't want to hold your hand but also ..., I wrote this fic for me but y'all can read it if you want, Locked out of heaven, Look at the duality, Mentions of consensual doing the do, Modern AU, Take a sip babe, adam and eve (and lilith?), red and blue - Freeform, road trip au, sprinkles angst on fic like that salt meme, the devil and a (fallen) angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 13:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16598510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nap_princess/pseuds/nap_princess
Summary: "I won't cry, I promise." But some promises are meant to be broken– HansElsa, angsty summer road trip AU





	second-cousin to the devil

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Glory](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/432170) by Bastille. 
  * Inspired by [Hard Feelings](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/432173) by Lorde. 
  * Inspired by [Sleep On The Floor](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/432176) by The Lumineers. 
  * Inspired by [She will always hate me](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/432200) by James Blunt. 
  * Inspired by [Take Me Home](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/434629) by Cash Cash ft Bebe Rexha. 



> Notes 1: Apparently, I really, really, really have a thing for Hans and cars. At least, I mentioned the sea like most people who write about Hans. I completely forgot that the deleted version of Frozen had set Hans as an admiral.
> 
> Notes 2: Alternatively called **travelling with an unrequired love**.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Tip: Get out your colour charts because colours are fun and because I didn't notice Elsa's ice turning different shades during her panic in her ice castle until a Tumblr post pointed out what all the colours meant and I'm like – yoooo.
> 
> Blue – Represents both the sky and the sea, and is associated with open spaces, freedom, intuition, expansiveness and sensitivity. Blue can create feelings of melancholy, negativity, sadness, self-centeredness, depression, timidity, and unreliability.
> 
> Yellow – It associated with joy, happiness and intellect. Too much yellow causes loss of focus and makes it hard to complete a task. Too much yellow also can cause people to become critical and demanding. It's also an unstable colour associated with cowardice and mental illness, symbolises loneliness, isolation and fear, insecurity, and low self-esteem.
> 
> Red – I don't think I need to explain this to you – power, control, anger, leadership. Red is so in your face but I find it so fucking fun that it's the colour of apples and roses and hearts, it represents both cupid and the devil. Neat, ain't it? Just keep that in mind.
> 
> Green – It's association with renewal, growth, and hope. Often green stands for both a lack of experience and need for growth. Green also stands for new growth and rebirth, coming back to life with fresh growth and life after the cold winter months.
> 
> Purple – Often seen as having sacred meaning. Considered delicate and precious, and associated with higher self, passion, fulfilment. It evoke feelings of gloom, sadness, and frustration while suggesting riches and royalty.
> 
> * * *
> 
> (I also play a lot with the concept of direction, 'left' and 'right' and being lost)

**second-cousin to the devil**  

* * *

You make me laugh until I die, can you think of any better way to choke?

– **Bastille** , _Glory_

* * *

****

* * *

  **i**

* * *

The e-mail read: **Thank you to everyone who came.**

.

.

.

"No one came." A disappointed voice says, jolting Hans from twiddling his thumbs.

The redhead looks up from his phone and is greeted with the sight of Elsa with her arms crossed over a bright yellow top, a carrier bag swung over her shoulder.

"Oh, you've packed up, already?" He asks, an earbud blasting _Bastille_ 's _Bad Blood_ album on repeat. He gave up _hours_ ago.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?"

Clearly not. And he's not exactly listening to her now, he's too busy sneaking glances. Hans thinks that shirt is _repulsive_ but he's not going to tell Elsa that. He doesn't want to turn her away, he's been waiting like an idiot for hours now, he's _done_ with being ignored so some part of him is glad that _something_ is happening at the very least. **Finally.**

"No, I was listening to music. Could you repeat what you just said?" He asks, just so the conversation can last.

Elsa's face scrunches up with a displeased look. She's clearly let down by his lack of enthusiasm. He wants to say 'Well, I'm sorry that I didn't give it my all' but doesn't.

Regardless, Elsa repeats herself after a beat, "No one came." She touches her forehead and he watches pale blonde strands escape from her loose braid.

"You're joking?" He asks.

"I'm not."

Hans double checks, now opening his e-mail app. He hopes his eyes aren't deceiving him, he had read the damn thing this morning. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be here, under the hot Summer sun. Maybe he had heard things wrong. Surely, _surely_ –

He asks again, "What do you mean 'no one came'? The e-mail said –"

"I know what it said but that's just fake hype." Elsa answers. Being an adult is sad. Now she knows why adults lie most of the time. She didn't think she'd be like them so soon. She doesn't want to; _not_ _just yet._

"So we came here for nothing?"

"Pretty much."

They exchange a look between each other like they can't believe what's just happened, like they're two strangers talking about the wildest thing. But, they're not. Not exactly, at least. They've known each other for years; having a shared childhood by going to the same Summer Camp, so finding themselves volunteering as counselors right before life forced them to grow up wasn't all that surprising – until no one showed up.

"This is a disaster." Elsa claims, collapsing into a seat besides Hans, feeling her legs stick to the seat. God, it's hot. She leans her elbows against the table that's neatly organised with pamphlets and an empty sign-up sheet then cups her face with both hands and groans, "What am I going to do now? I thought this would be a good experience, I thought I'd get to taste the last of my childhood but no one's here ... I didn't even think Summer Camp could be cancelled! Never knew that was a thing."

Some people had registered at the very beginning … but then sent e-mails backing out until the attendance went down to zero so today was a sort of last effort to see if anyone would want to sign up their kid for some 'Summer fun' but no one did because apparently that's overrated.

Hans merely shrugs. Honestly, if anyone asked, Hans thinks his parents had only sent him and his brothers to Summer Camp because they didn't want to deal with thirteen rambunctious boys running around freely and causing a ruckus. However, after spending a couple of Summers being too grown for camp, he learned to miss it.

"Well, I've got three months to do nothing." He says. He said he had missed it, but it doesn't mean he's not used to letting his days roll by.

Elsa lowers her hands and looks pointedly at Hans. Well, _she_ could have had something to do until she decided to volunteer; her sister, uncle, aunt, and cousin had planned a trip over the Summer – to Japan. Now Elsa deeply regrets not coming along. She could possibly tell them the sad news about the cancellation and hopefully manage to squeeze herself into the trip with them … but she's never flown alone, she doesn't think she's brave enough to stomach that. And she _doesn't_ want anyone to hold her hand through the process too. Plus, the sudden change in plans would be costly, the plane ticket price would be insane and all the hotel rooms might be booked.

"What about you?" Hans asks after noticing Elsa's glum expression. "Got any plans?"

"None." Elsa sighs. All her friends had promised to send her postcards over the holiday too. Nobody's here. Elsa shifts from having her elbows on the table to leaning back into her chair. "I guess we'll both just … drop off the camp things and go home."

Hans presses his mouth into a thin line, Elsa looks absolutely defeated, he **never** wants to look that way. He drums his fingers on the table and thinks. So she's not doing anything, and he's definitely not doing anything. Okay …

_Okay_ , this **might** sound crazy, something that's more of a whim than anything but –

"Maybe we don't have to go home." Hans says suddenly as Elsa straightens in her seat. "Maybe we could continue our Summer."

"Summer's not dead just because camp is." Elsa snorts, hands now reaching to tidy and pack-up Hans's stall. She's giving up!

"No, I mean." He shakes his head and reaches over to stop Elsa's busy hands. He doesn't let go even when she gives him this strange look. "What if we do something after sending the stuff back to camp?"

"You mean like … ice-cream at _McDonalds_ instead of going straight home?" Elsa offers, eyeing their joint hands, feeling the heat of his body temperature.

"Wait, what? _No._ Is that your definition of 'something'?" Hans asks back. "I mean like an adventure."

She continues looking at him, as if saying 'a spontaneous decision to get ice-cream _is_ an adventure', and Hans can't help but think – what kind of boring ass adventure is that? Also, the ice-cream machine is always broken, that would have been a failed adventure!

"I mean, let's get out of here, visit places, see things."

"Like a road trip?" Elsa asks, eyebrows disappearing into her fringe. She's that surprised.

"Yeah." Hans muses. "You've already got your stuff packed and you've already told your family you'll be busy, camp rules say we only get our phones on the weekends, they'll never know, why not?"

"What do you mean 'why not'? Because that would be lying!" She brings her hand back to her side, pulling away first, fingers clench around the hem of her yellow shirt.

"Well, it's not like you've got anything better to do."

"Do you think lying is fun? Do you do it as a pastime or something?" Elsa asks, feeling her face redden. "A road trip – that sounds like a crazy idea!" She can't chuck everything out the window and go without a plan, that only happens in movies!

"You're so boring." He says.

" _Shut up_."

"Did I hit a nerve?"

"I'm not going on this trip with you."

"Why? Because it's _too_ spontaneous?" Hans teases. If she hadn't known him for years, she would think he was mocking her in an ill way. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

Blue eyes immediately narrowed. Was that a challenge? Wait, no! Don't fall for that! "I don't want to spend money on something I'm not even …" Elsa trails off. She's not done arguing but ….

"I do. I don't mind paying."

"What – no! You can't!"

"Why not?" Hans asks, and it sounds too genuine. Dial it back, he's **never** this sincere. Has he gotten soft since the last time she's seen him? "I'm just paying you back for all those favours you did for me."

"What favours? When?"

Hans's eyebrows furrow and his green eyes immediately stare at her, amazed that she had forgotten. He immediately starts ticking his fingers, listing all the kind things she's done for him over the years. Elsa doesn't get a word in because Hans starts launching on all these vivid descriptions.

Hans asks, "Don't you remember? When you were fourteen, or maybe it was fifteen, my brother was being a total dick. You didn't think it was fair, but you were _too scared_ to hurt him so you convinced Anna to sock him in the jaw instead."

"I faintly recall this, yes, but ... I don't remember what the argument was even about. What was it? I don't even remember which brother got punched."

"It was Runo, but, does it matter?"

Elsa gives him an expression that reads 'uh, yes' but Hans ignores it and continues reminiscing.

"And what about that other time, you know?"

No, _she doesn't_ but it felt almost rewarding to listen to Hans remember every small deed in detail about her like he's secretly been spending his Summers memorising her. He talks for another three minutes straight before Elsa realises this will go on for forever if she doesn't cut him off.

"– and, what about –"

"Okay, I get it, I did a lot of things for you. But, you don't – I can't just –" Elsa stutters, trying to wrap her head about everything.

"Seventy-thirty."

"What?"

"No, wait, eighty-twenty."

"Are you – _negotiating_? You're negotiating how we're splitting my spending, are you for real?" She asks, she hasn't even said 'yes'. Doesn't even know if she wants to say 'yes'.

"Eighty-twenty." Hans repeats.

"What? No!" Elsa bites the urge to reach over and cup his mouth from saying nonsense. "That's too – you're crazy!"

"Eighty-twenty." He says again, relentless.

"Thirty." She suddenly says, anxiety taking hold of her. She doesn't know how adults do this – negotiate for bargains then boast about it.

"Twenty." Hans still doesn't budge.

"Forty."

She's going up with the numbers and he doesn't like it. He tells her, "Thirty and that's final."

"Thirty." Elsa agrees and – wait, what? When did she say 'yes'? He's too good at talking, damn silver tongue of his – although it sounded like playful banter at the beginning.

* * *

The first few hours were **not** great. After the adrenaline had worn off, reality sort of crashed into them. Elsa couldn't believe she was on **a road trip** with someone she's known for years yet also know _almost nothing about._ She almost forgot what Hans' full name was, Elsa had to doubletake. It was when they had to drop off the camp supplies and the lady behind the counter called, 'Johannes?' and Elsa thought, 'Who is this Johannes?'

Thanks to shitty connections, any GPS device was deemed worthless. Elsa and Hans had to do things the old fashion way; with an old map. Hans had turned left and that's what Elsa had said that he had done wrong, he turned the wrong way and ended up at the wrong place.

It wasn't fun. There were a lot of back and forth arguing and low-key threats of 'If you tell me to turn right one more time, Elsa, I will turn this car around!', 'It's on the map! It's. on. the. map. I'm not making this up! I swear to God, Hans –', 'Swear all you want, Elsa, I'm an atheist', 'You are such a – **you're** – we're lost!', 'We don't even have a destination in mind so we can't be lost', 'But we are', 'I don't understand why you're so panicked about this', 'Because we're lost, Hans', 'We are not lost', 'Then where are we?', 'I don't know, Elsa, _you_ have the map!', 'So this is _my_ fault?' and this went on for practically forever with nobody turning around until they finally spot _lights_ and _this small town_ and Hans lets out an exclamation of 'Well, hallelujah! I'm starving, let's get lunch!'

.

.

.

{ Not everything had gone to plan but we made the best of what we had, you know? }

* * *

**ii**

* * *

"That is such an ugly colour."

These words are the first thing Hans says in the morning, showing up at the door of Elsa's motel room to meet up for breakfast. If they hadn't timed it the night before, she would have expected it to be a surprise, like those cheesy rom-coms where the guy shows up with roses in his hands (and maybe a boombox).

And Elsa says 'the night before' because Hans had miraculously misplaced his phone after mere hours into whatever 'this' is, meaning if the map failed, then it's all on Elsa to use her maybe functioning GPS. And when she had freaked out and asked him how he was going to contact his family, he just shrugged and said 'I don't want to talk to them anyway, I have you, don't I?', smooth fu –

"Oh, aren't you charming?" Elsa jokes, wanting to slap his arm but resisting the urge to touch him. She still doesn't know him _that well_. "You're only saying that because I'm not wearing your favourite colour."

"And what's my favourite colour then?" He teases.

"Not yellow." She gestures to her dress.

"It's so ugly." He says again like a broken record.

"Yellow is not ugly." Elsa declares, closing her room door behind her and walking by Hans's side. She hopes he leads the way, she doesn't know where they're going. Does this place even have a place to eat or …? "Yellow's supposed to symbolise cheerfulness."

"I thought it symbolised fear?" Hans asks back, guiding Elsa somewhere. Maybe he had explored the place the night before?

"Says who?" She asks. It sounds like they're bickering. Elsa thought they had solved this yesterday.

Hans answers, "Warning signs."

"Well, stop signs are red." Elsa says, guessing red as Hans' overall favourite. He probably wants her to wear it just so she'd match his hair and car and perhaps even his life.

"I actually have two favourite colours, thank you – red and green."

Ah, she should have guessed. Although it's Summer, Hans is wearing this deep green bomber jacket with red writing on him, a bold number thirteen, isn't he dramatic?

"Well, I guess we have a traffic light now." She says then puts her hands on her hips and decides for his sake, "I'll wear blue tomorrow."

He makes a face at this.

"What now?" She asks, almost demanding. She's not as sunny as what she appears on the outside. "I'm not going to wear green, if that's what you're asking me to do."

"I'm not asking anything _from you_." Of you, either.

* * *

"What is this place?"

"A bar." Hans states, giving Elsa a funny look.

"How did you … what? How did you find this place?"

" _Google Maps_." He tells her in a matter-of-fact voice.

This time, Elsa gives Hans a funny look. "Isn't there a better place we can go?"

"I like this place."

"Have you been here before?"

He smiles with his teeth and says, "It'll be fun. Our first adventure."

Elsa is understandably hesitant until Hans points out that the place has food, water, a bathroom and proper AC which is better than most places in this small town … it makes sense. But also, out of all the places to go, why a sketchy bar?

"I can't believe you." Is all Elsa can utter as she follows closely behind Hans. She doesn't understand him but he's already pushing the door open.

They enter through a door that says 'EXIT', it was a funny little place.

"Loosen up." Hans says when he notes how Elsa keeps looking around, probably afraid that someone would rob her, steal her bag.

"I am scared out of my wits right now." Elsa replies, shoulders tense. She really wants to reach over and grab Hans by his sleeve. It's not even ten AM yet and people are already drinking? There are some buff guys at the corner and they look like they belong to a biker gang and –

"Are you going to cry?" Hans asks, it feels like a punch at her vulnerability.

Elsa's back snaps straight and her hands ball into clenched fists. Is he seriously mocking her right now? "I won't."

"No?" He notes the glint in her eyes.

"I won't cry, I promise." She tells him but he only gives her a look in response. Hans knows Elsa would never lie but … some promises are meant to be broken.

He stands by her side for a little longer, then –

Hans takes a step back and says, "If you say so."

She doesn't understand. Does he want to repay her for all those times she was kind to him or does he want to get her murdered?

* * *

The small town quickly becomes a bore, there's nothing to do and Elsa swears she's passed the same people three times now. The place wasn't exactly the middle of nowhere but it's also not exactly somewhere either.

"So ..." Hans says once they were sitting on the curb. He uncaps a bottle of tea bought at a convenience store before handing it over to Elsa and intertwining his hands together. "What were you going to call me before?"

"What?" Elsa turns, she's getting _this hint_ that he's only talking to her because he lacks any social media to fill up his time. Hans never did find his phone, they even checked the car and his room four times.

"In the car," He reminds her. "When we were arguing over our first destination, you were going to call me something?"

Elsa's cheeks coloured. Oh, he remembered? She swears he's memorising everything about her. The questions is, why though? Her fingers fidgeting with the drink he bought her. Now she feels guilty for using his money but doesn't say it and only stares at the gravel.

"Uh ..." She hums, not knowing whether to lie or not. She decides on the latter, she decides to be honest, even if it'll hurt him. "I wanted to say ... that you were ..."

"A jerk?" He guesses, the same time she says, "The devil."

He lets out a chuckle. "I'm the devil himself? Well, I've been called a lot of nasty things but I've never been called that before."

"I'm sorry." Elsa says, guilt flopping in her stomach and heart beating in her mouth. She feels horrible. "It was just the road rage. I really don't like people yelling at me."

"I know you don't." Hans replies but doesn't add that nobody likes being yelled at. He's trying to make it personal, maybe? Trying to prioritise her. He kind of has to if he wants this trip to work, Elsa hasn't exactly been in the most comfortable position. "I'm sorry too – for yelling at you. And for being a jerk."

"It's ..." Not okay. "Just don't it again." She tells him because every little thing is important to her. She doesn't always want to mean everything she says but they have their meanings.

He nods at this, crossing and uncrossing his arms, still deciding though already agreeing.

"I'm guessing we'll be hitting the road again soon." Elsa murmurs, sounding soft. "Can we please ... Can we have a plan? I really don't want to end up lost again."

Hans sighs, running a hand through his bright hair. He knows this might be the first step to recovering from any more heated spats but ... "Wasn't that the point of the trip? To be adventurous and spontaneous?" Even if it's a little bit.

Well, this situation looks like it wasn't going anywhere, she wants to go right and he wants to go left, they both wanted different things.

As a blanket of quietness covers them, Hans almost wonders if this was a good idea. Maybe they should just turn around. These two days has been spontaneous enough (for her, at least, he's had wilder days). They didn't head out far but it was far enough ...

_Maybe._

"Maybe …" Elsa suddenly speaks up, picking up the last word Hans had thought of. "Maybe, we can be those things?" Adventurous and spontaneous, that is. Elsa offers, "But we have to first agree on something."

"And how do we do that?" Even he notices that they're too different.

Elsa fiddles with her drink once again before putting it down and pulling the map from her satchel bag. "Maybe start with a route? If not, let's make a list of what we want to do then just go somewhere and do it."

"Like what?"

Elsa chews on the bottom of her lip, which he also notes. Her eyes flicker in an attempt to think of something achievable yet not entirely mundane. "Visit a beach? Swim in the ocean?"

Hans almost laughs at this. Typical Elsa. "And which beach would you like to visit?"

"You pick." She says. And by the way she had said it, it gave Hans this sense that she's putting some of her trust in him.

(A horrible decision, really)

Hans blinks at the map and asks, " _You_ want _me_ to decide?"

"Yes, it was your bright idea to go on this trip, wasn't it? So why not?" Elsa says, echoing his words from a day ago. Then she asks, "And what would you want to do?"

"Would you even be okay with doing the things I want to do?"

Elsa pauses, wanting to give him a funny look. "If it's not … too scary."

A smile finds its way on his face. "Well, I already have something in mind."

* * *

{ I'll take my chances on the curb here with you }

* * *

"This is a terrible idea." Came her response. They're at another bar, far away from the previous town. Elsa thought everything was going so well too, they didn't fight once over the directions. Hans had allowed her to kick her feet up on his dashboard and they had listened to her music without him saying anything snarky. They had even watched the sky change colours, yellow to blue to purple to green, then – BAM, here they are.

"It's a drink. _One_ drink." He replies, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. They keep butting heads, and the day's not even over yet.

"You're driving." Elsa says, overly cautious.

Hans waves a hand airily. "You have your driver's license, don't you? You can take the wheel."

"I'm starting to think that you're an alcoholic." She says, irked. Or maybe he's pretending to be a grown up. Well, either way, it was nice while it lasted. She guesses she's fine with going back to this weird tension between them. He's too haughty to be caring anyway.

"You know, you could sit down and have a drink with me."

"You just said that I would be the one driving." Elsa says and that's what ends the conversation; with her sitting _far away_ from the bar, looking and feeling miserable. Or so she thinks.

"Down it, Fresher." Hans says into her ear, peeking over her shoulder and Elsa almost spits out her drink from fright. How long has he been standing in the shadows?

Covering her mouth from any accidents, she turns to face him. He is _too close_. Like they haven't been in closer proximity enough; in his shitty, tiny car. She turns to the side a little. "This is water." She tells him.

He shrugs, "Chug it. Stay hydrated." He says it like he cares about her well-being.

She looks at him for a while longer, trying to figure him out, then looks away. It wasn't fear, but it was something beating in her chest. She hopes he doesn't catch on her true intentions and tells him, "You're drunk, aren't you?"

…

"Honey, I'm home." He jokes, throwing a red apple in her way.

Elsa catches it but doesn't say anything once Hans slams the passenger door closed. She's a little stunned from his shifting personality.

"What?" He asks. "Didn't get the joke?"

Elsa only takes a bite out of the apple he had given her, hoping the caffeine in it would keep her awake. She feels like she's all tired out from arguing with Hans and taking the wheel.

"C'mon, Elsa." He says in a softer tone, trying to coax the cold out of her. "Are you still mad that we ended up at the wrong place?"

"We made a plan. You were in charge of the map."

"I was drunk."

"I know." She tries not to hiss. "And you made me wait an entire hour, I really had to use the bathroom." She says, a little snippy. Honestly. _Honestly_ , she doesn't understand him. Hans has acted hot and cold with her all day. He keeps switching from being considered to being condescending about her choices.

A firm line forms on his lips. "I told you to go before we left." He answers in the same tone. Oh, here they go again, arguing away.

"I did." Elsa says, now she's thinking they'll squabble over the smallest things. Then she adds, fuelling whatever small spark there is, "You _also_ told me to chug a whole glass of water."

"Well, don't forget that I _also_ told you that we could pull over for you to pee." He argues back.

"I –" She says seriously. "– am a lady and I'm not going to pee out in the open –" Hans opens his mouth to add something which would not make things better but Elsa beats him to the punch, "– or behind some bushes."

A silence passes.

"I'm sorry." He says slowly.

"Do you even know why you're apologising?" Because she doesn't want meaningless, empty apologies.

"No." Hans admits after looking away.

Elsa takes another bite, chews, and grabs a water bottle. She hands it to Hans wordlessly, she needs him to sober up to understand her explanation. She doesn't like unresolved things, doesn't like leaving things undone so she sucks in a breath while he takes a swing of water.

She **needs** to tells him, repeat the important bits, even if it exposes herself.

"I really needed to go, Hans. I was behind the wheel because you couldn't be. And when I needed you, you weren't much help. I was so unfocused when I was driving, my mind **wasn't** in the best place – it wasn't safe." She tells him.

It wasn't the fact that she had to hold her pee for an entire hour. It was the fact that he _didn't_ realise that they were _both_ in danger. In danger _because of her._

She wanted him to pick up on this. Wanted him to recognise that she could put people at risk. Why didn't he get it? She knows death is inevitable but _God damnit._

"I could have crashed the car." She says and it finally clicks to him.

'We could have died.' She wanted to say – _no_ , it was what she _is_ saying. But he doesn't have to be a genius to decipher her words.

He shuts his green eyes, trying to carefully pick his words, just according to his (or maybe her) convenience. So he tries again.

"I'm sorry, Elsa. I really mean it." He lets himself pause to let his words sink into her. He doesn't want her to drown in his confession, doesn't want her to get overwhelmed with his words before adding, "But I can't read your mind." Ah, there's the punch. "I really am sorry but you need to tell me these things, I won't know unless you tell me."

Her hands tighten around the bright red apple. She's going to crush it with her own two hands if she doesn't learn to loosen up.

"You'll tell me next time, won't you? You'll tell me whatever's on your mind?" He asks, though it feels like he's asking her to promise him something.

There's another beat, another pause.

Elsa doesn't like how she thinks. Maybe she's just an anxious person. Maybe she's just paranoid and needs to loosen up like Hans had said. Maybe it was her parents' deaths – a vacation gone wrong, can you imagine? But, she doesn't like how she is in her head. Sometimes she wants to be normal.

(Maybe she can be normal? Maybe this is her chance to be normal?)

So she says …

"I will."

She is making promises she doesn't know she can keep. But then again, she's already made one. What's one more?

* * *

**iii**

* * *

After a week, Elsa thinks she finally has the hang of things, actually enjoys things.

She sees things most people regard as boring, she sees clear rivers and desert rocks stretching on and sunlight filtering through high mountains. She remembers sticking her hand out of the window at one point; letting the wind play with her fingertips, tickle the inside of her wrist and pass through her like nothing happened. She thinks it felt like dancing, she isn't so sure.

Or, at least, she thinks so until they end up at another bar called 'Lite' and Elsa meets some lively people. Elsa didn't think she'd find such refreshing people there but she did. Elsa has too many conversations all at once while Hans stands in a corner by himself, either sipping his beer or playing pool by himself while occasionally grinning at her. Somehow, the people at the bar get Elsa to dance when the jukebox plays and Hans is actually pulled in too, he twirls her in circles, but not enough to make her dizzy, but enough to make her laugh and her skirt swish.

It's a little too lovely. A little too sweet.

* * *

"Are you wearing _that_?" Hans asks, showing up at her newest motel door. It's a 'yet again' thing. Yup, that sounds better – well, actually, no. It doesn't sound better, it sounds very rude, but it _is_ normal. Or, as normal as it gets in Elsa's life.

"You really have a problem with how I dress, don't you?" Elsa asks, and here she thought she looked cute.

"No, just the colours."

"It matches my eyes." She's wearing blue like she said she would.

"It does match your eyes." Hans says, taking a moment to drink her in. She doesn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not. His lips quirk upwards. "Maybe you should wear another colour that matches something else?" He offers and she doesn't have to understand him to get what he means.

"I don't have anything red." She tugs on her hair, she doesn't think her pale blonde hair would suit anything red.

"We can go shopping."

"Why?"

"Why not?" He must think he is _such_ a charmer.

.

.

.

But she ends up wearing a lot of red while she's with him; red tops and red skirts, a new favourite rose-red dress and even socks.

* * *

"You slept through the fun parts." Hans accused her while they're walking somewhere.

He says it's a surprise, he won't tell her where they're going, and Elsa now accepts that she will never truly understand him although she tries too. She just hopes it's not another bar or a liquor store.

"Says the person who's usually passed out drunk." She answers back.

"Touché."

"I saw lightning strike on a clear day." Elsa tells him, she can't believe she feels giddy telling him such a thing. She can't believe she feels excited telling him about the parts of her day that he's missed.

"Isn't that exciting?"

"Don't patronise me. I bet you haven't experience anything better."

He looks back at her like she's just said the dumbest thing in her life, like he can't believe she's not seeing what he's seeing. "I did."

"And what was that?"

"I'm not telling you, you'll figure it out."

She won't.

At least, she doesn't think so. But, she's too distracted to connect the dots. Elsa just remembers walking slightly behind him that day; remembers admiring the glow of the setting sun on his handsome, freckled face; the way his mouth moved when he talked, the way he craned his neck just to look at her as he told her things on his mind. It wasn't supposed to be romantic, this wasn't supposed to happen, it just did.

* * *

He tries the same joke again, maybe weeks later, maybe a month. She can't remember, Summer is never the time to keep track of things.

"Honey, I'm home!"

"Get out." She jokes back.

He lets out a full, deep throaty laugh, pulling himself up by the elbows and she gets a clear shot of his strong jaw and bobbing Adam's apple. She misses his question entirely because she was too busy staring.

"So, how about it?" He asks, causing her gaze to flit away from such a sight.

"Hm?" She hums at him. She obviously wasn't listening, too distracted.

"You ready to go?" Hans asks, looking into her blue eyes. He can't tell if they're the colour of the sky or the ocean. "Or do you not believe in my navigation skills? Afraid we'd get lost?" Again?

She blinks, blonde lashes fluttering. "I don't know." She answers, she's a little confused but … right now, she believes in this moment. "Just drive anywhere, I don't care."

…

They arrived at the sea and he thinks he must have dared her to take a plunge with him (and hopefully not drown).

Hans remembers his feet rushing, heart thundering and his blood pumping through his veins as he ran straight off that cliff's edge and into the sea. The dive was from a high place and the sea was deep, but he didn't hesitate. He just remembers the wind roaring through his ears and then – _SPLASH!_ – bubbles floated around him and he felt salt water soak into him.

He thinks his eyes were open underwater, drinking in the familiar feel and the colour of blue, before his red head popped above the waves. But not to gulp in fresh air. No. It was to find something, _someone._ He had swished his head left and right to find her. Elsa. Only to realise that she never jumped in with him and turned his gaze upwards at the cliff.

She was far away but he could tell that she was smiling widely, thinking he was an idiot for leaping without looking, he gives her the finger. In this angle, her hair looks white and she's as pretty as an angel. He bets she would have packed a nicer swimsuit if they had planned things ahead, instead, she's just wearing something appropriate for the Summer Camp that never happened.

"You promised!" He yells at her, letting water drip down his face.

"Not everyone can keep their promises!" She yells back, still grinning.

Now he thinks, he should have _held her hand_ , should have _dragged her along with him_. So he yells at her again, repeating his words, wanting her to sink in his words, "YOU PROMISED!" but she does not dive after him, does not fall.

_You promised._

.

.

.

{ "... and you were supposed to come with me." }

.

.

.

Her hands are so cold from all the swimming. So much so that they turn red and she imagines him holding her hand, if he had, it must have been a pleasant kind of warm.

"Are you cold?" Hans asks, dripping wet with seawater, long legs making their way towards their towels and beach bag.

"Yes." Elsa doesn't even try to hide her shivering as she wobbles on the sand, a little behind Hans.

"Catch." He says and throws something her way. Elsa doesn't even have time to look at it before Hans adds, "You left it in my room at some point."

"This … isn't mine …" Elsa says when Hans had presented the article of clothing to her.

"Of course, that's yours. Who else could it belong to?" Hans asks, arms folded as they stared at a lavender cardigan.

"Maybe you accidentally picked it up at one of the motels we stayed at?" Elsa guesses, not wanting to touch the thing but it's already in her hands. She's giving him the benefit of the doubt. "How long have you kept the cardigan in your suitcase?"

"I don't know? A month? Maybe longer?" He answers.

Elsa can only blink. "Well … it's not mine."

"Huh." Hans only says.

His strong, freckled shoulders turns; back now facing her. Elsa waits for him to say more, prove her wrong. She can't read him when he doesn't look at her.

.

.

.

He keeps looking away from her after that and for some reason, this annoys her. Is she that unimportant to him that he won't even look at her? If she hadn't already known his eye colour, she would have wanted to stare at him for forever, until she gets it right.

Regardless, this new attitude made her want to grab him by the shoulders just so he would stand still and look at her.

She starts to think – one chance. One bite. Just one _fucking_ bite would mean the world to her. She gets it, he's mad that she didn't keep her promise (a blind promise to leap in after him, _with him_ ). But she never was good at keeping things.

Maybe he's just stubborn? Stupidly stubborn. But once his walls fall and his heart melts, surely he'll give her an answer (right?). She ends up too busy thinking and over-thinking to ask him.

* * *

They talk less. Or, more specifically, she does all the talking. But it feels very one-sided and their words … they all sounded empty because all she knows what to talk about is her family and he doesn't like talking about his.

So there's just silence and Elsa keeps looking up at the sky, looking up for heaven, watching the world pass by them as they laid on the hood of his car. She counts the planes that leaves her behind, wondering about Anna and cousin Rapunzel, of her aunt and uncle; and Hans counts the number of times she wishes to leave him.

"You must love your family a lot." He _finally_ says something, hand on his cheek. He's also _finally_ looking at her. Hot, cold, hot, cold –

"I do." Elsa answers, suddenly feeling stiff at his attention. Sometimes he talks to her about everything, sometimes he just talks to her just because there's no one else to talk to. Then she asks him, "Don't you?"

"No." Hans says so fast and so easily she _almost_ thinks he's heartless. "It's not necessarily because they're bad people, it's just, I feel like I don't know them at all. All they do is talk about people but never themselves. I don't want to talk _about_ people, I want to talk _to_ them." Hans admits. "But, sometimes, it feels like nobody wants to talk to me so … kind of a damper, it makes me feel like losing faith in humanity."

"Ah," Elsa murmurs. So, he isn't heartless. There's nothing wrong with him, his heart just needs help (maybe from her?). "You'll rekindle that faith."

"Will I?"

"Sure." She nods, fidgeting with her hands. His green eyes are still on the side of her face as she talks. "You just need to … learn how to love."

His face morphs, it's a mixture of amusement and disbelief. What's he going to say now? 'You can't teach an old dog new tricks'?

"That's a hopeless cause." He tells her, now rolling over, his arms folded under his head. He's so done watching the endless blue sky stretch but …

Staring at him, Elsa feels this kick in her chest – it's another want, another urge. She wants to sit up this time and touch him.

"Love's such a wild concept to me, it's so wide and has a billion different meanings, all wrong yet also all right. It's so much fun to play with." He continues saying.

"So, what is love to you? You're not one of those people, are you?" Elsa finds herself saying. She doesn't think she'll ever understand why people don't believe in love. After all, she loves her family so, so, so much (unlike Hans, he might be a lonely child).

"What do you mean 'those people'?"

"You know, _those people._ You just said love's fun to play with, so I'm assuming you're _one of them_ , those who think love is a game so they go on _this spree_ of heartbreaks."

"A game? Hell no. Love's not a game."

"Then what is it?"

"I just told you, love has a lot of meanings, I can't explain it all to you, there's no right or wrong answer."

He's avoiding the question.

"What's love then, to you?" Elsa asks, she wants to dig deep. Deep, deep, deep. Past his hot and cold barrier, to his core.

"To me?" Hans pauses. He hasn't touched her since the day he started this crazy scheme. "Love's just an excuse to get hurt."

* * *

{ We watched the planes leave us behind }

* * *

**iv**

* * *

 Whatever they had, it was created over the Summer when everything seemed like an explosion of warmth. Now those flames have blown out and they are freezing, this is why they're blue.

* * *

It hits her.

" _How did you find this place?"_

" _Google Maps."_

" _Isn't there a better place we can go?"_

" _I like this place."_

" _Have you been here before?"_

And it hits her _hard._ The memory replays in her mind, back to back. What he had said, her ignorance, how it was so obvious.

" _Google Maps."_ – He had shown up at her door on the day he called her dress ugly. He showed up because he had lost his phone the night before. So how could he have possibly found the bar on _Google Maps_?

His phone wasn't anywhere in the car or in his room, so that means he could have only lost it at one place. That damn bar. And that cardigan …

" _How long have you kept that thing in your suitcase?"_

" _I don't know? A month? Maybe longer?"_

It's not the answer she was looking for. It's not something she wants to hear, but she can't take it back.

"I'm sorry." He says when she confronts him about it.

"No." Like she had said, she doesn't want meaningless, empty apologies. "I can't belive you! I _honestly_ can't believe you!"

"It was nothing!"

"Then why did you go back to the bar the next day? It was to find that girl, wasn't it? What were you going to do if you saw her again? Make-out in front of me?"

"What? No – I went back to look for my phone!"

"Did you? Really? You said you wanted to get _a drink_ then you got roaring drunk and _I had to drive_! I could have killed us in that car because you didn't tell me anything!"

"This isn't about you!" He swears he's going to tear his hair out.

"Are you serious?! _You_ kept _her stuff_ and thought it was _mine_ – this **is** about me! And the fact that you got our things mixed up, do you _even_ know me? Anything about me?" She asks.

For fuck's sake, she thought he was mesmerising her.

He waits; waits for her to say more. Patience has never been his virtue, he's a social person, but he knows when to hold his tongue.

Elsa maintains silence, wanting to get up and do something; maybe furiously kick the sandy ground? She doesn't understand why she's so angry, yeah, _okay_ , so there was that part about almost dying but she's wearing one of his favourite colours – green – and this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Elsa?" Hans calls, noting her quietness, counting the minutes she _can_ stay silent. Maybe he _has_ spent years memorising her. "Are you mad at me?" For shattering your beliefs?

"No." Elsa answers honestly. She's mad at herself for believing in her delusions. She wants to die.

He sighs deeply and for some reason, it makes her own breathing hitch. Elsa pauses like she wants to run away and never return, never show her face here anymore. But then he reaches over to _touch_ her

–

his hand on hers. He starts whispering all these things that are inconceivable. She's not … she can't imagine or grasp it, it's unbelievable.

His voice is smooth, he is so expressive when he talks. She wonders what he would sound like if he were to sing his heart out (if he does have a heart). Would his words shake and crack? Would his lullabies sound haunting? Would he hum loudly? What is his ballad? And would she listen to every word over and over and over again?

She doesn't know if she could admit that to herself, or anyone, to that matter. She thinks she might be crying. Look at the wonderful mess that they've made.

"Tell me the truth, Hans, please." She pleads, pulling away. He's such a shit person, the Devil.

"Let's not talk about this." He dodges her question again, but this time he's not smiling.

"Did you? Did you have a –" She can't even say it.

"It just happened!" Like how she fell for him?

"What do you mean 'it just happened'? You said love was only to hurt people!" Elsa asks, well, his philosophy was right. She feels hurt all over.

His face reddens, "I never said anything about love! I didn't love her, there was none of that involved! She was just somebody. _A one-time thing_." Like drinking? Like that one drink before he told Elsa that she had to drive them to their next destination?

"So you lied to me?!" Elsa wants to shout. She's swelling with girlish rage.

"I didn't lie, I just didn't tell you anything!" He's yelling at her, _again_ , he said that he wouldn't (but she also said that she'd tell him what's on her mind, and she can't. He's broken as many promises as her).

"That's the same thing!" She points a finger when she has no right. No right at all.

"No! _No_ , it's not! Don't do _this_!"

"Don't do _what_?!"

His voice drops as if he's about to expose some vulnerability. "You make me sound like I'm the bad guy."

Elsa feels her jaw drops and she declares with all her young heart, "I want to go home."

"You – what?"

"I want to go home. This – This trip is over." She knows she's acting like a spoiled kid, wanting to go home after being disappointed. But she can't help it, she's not ready for this. She was **never** ready for this.

"Because I slept with someone and didn't tell you? I'm a guy." What does that even fucking mean?

" _Take me home_ , Hans." She did this to herself. She hurt herself, risked her emotions, endangered her heart.

"Look, I really _like_ you, Elsa."

No.

_No._

"No, don't lie to me." She says all this while her eyes leak and she grips onto her skirt like a frustrated, innocent child. She feels her heart break into two.

* * *

{ And then you put your hand in mine, and pulled me back from things divine,

Stop looking up for heaven, waiting to be buried }

* * *

He drops her off at her home and only leaves after she gets inside, the first thing she does is make herself a cup of green tea. She needs something warm to fill in her core, she feels empty. There is no one to talk to now, nobody's home and the silence is suffocating.

But she needs to face the facts. She needs to drink the tea of her fears and swallow her river of tears. She still doesn't understand him, they're too different, total opposites.

* * *

**v**

* * *

"Elsa?" He asks out loud when he swears he sees her at the corner of his eye.

She is like a shadow creeping at the back of his mind, he cannot go anywhere without her following. In his mind, it's like she's haunting him. The memory of her follows him around and everywhere he turns, he thinks he sees her. She pulls him back and he surrenders, he is completely and utterly defeated. He is no match for her.

He's stained himself with his mistakes and flaws, with his carelessness and non-existing wishful thinking. He never meant to hurt her, it's just a bad habit of his – hurting people. He knows that's not a good excuse, but, what does it matter now, anyway? She's not going to want to know him anymore.

Now he wonders, who was supposed to be the one who ended up hurt and lonely?

* * *

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> Notes 3: Honestly, just suggest any Bastille song and I'd write Helsa for you but … (cries into hands) … why do I have so many Helsa drafts? When will it end? I drafted another this morning. Why do I keep making so many of them? I. want. to. stop. Nobody reads these things but I can't get them out of my mind!
> 
> Notes 4: The theory of laying on the hood of a car is fun until you realise the engine gets hot after long drives so if you automatically do this, the underside of your thigh is now BBQ chicken and you're screaming rather than laughing.
> 
> Notes 5: I don't know how people manage Summer flings but I have a friend who's only been abroad for 1.5 months and apparently she might be getting a boyfriend now so … yeah?
> 
> – 12 November 2018


End file.
